if your heart wears thin
by Holly Chase
Summary: "Hey," he says and the world is realised in that one word. "Coffee?" - alscorp :: for the quidditch fanfiction league round 12.


**Round #12**

Characters: Albus Severus and Scorpius

Genre: Romance

Words: 1,124

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**if your heart wears thin**

One day, Albus thinks as the sun rises over the horizon, spilling orange light into the room, it would be nice to wake up with Scorpius in his arms instead, of alone. Of course, he knows that that day is a long way off – a barely visible speck of hope in a dark distance of thousands of baby steps.

His bed smells of coffee and that strange sandalwood cologne Scorpius wears. An odd combination, but one that Albus can't get out of his head as he rolls over, pulling the covers with him.

Clinging to the bed with wretched hope, Albus deeply inhales the scent of Scorpius. It's pathetic and Albus knows it, but that doesn't stop him from always desperately praying that one day the sheets will be warm and his body will connect with another, feet colliding in an uncomfortable mess (and Scorpius will be wearing socks because he always wears socks to bed), an uncomfortable mass of limbs that is so much better than being alone with only his memories to keep him company.

Albus slides from the bed, shimmering sheets falling from his body as he reaches for his dressing-gown. It's embroidered with a miniature game of Quidditch; miniature Albus Potter spares him a glancing wave and a thumbs up before diving after a sewn golden snitch flies across the pitch, a trail of red sparks trailing it like a sparkling shadow.

Stars litter Albus's walls and ceiling, minuscule supernovas exploding above and around him until he banishes the _adstrum_ spell that he cast last night to the murmurs of Scorpius. They had pointed out constellations and shooting stars – Albus had wished on every single one; he wonders if wishing for the same hope over and over will make it more likely to come true – and planets, huge gas giants and tiny worlds made up of lava or rock or ice.

A small part of Albus thinks that something is slightly wrong with his room. He can't quite place it; it's something in the smell, something in the feel. He bites his lower lip, rubbing the bridge of his nose before putting on his glasses and bringing the room into focus.

He's been drunk, notices Albus, realizing that his feet are not as steady as they usually are and his hands are shaking. Albus summons a glass of water, it flies through the door, spilling the contents on the floor and soaking through Albus's crinkled shirt from yesterday. When he takes a sip, it burns his throat with the searing thoughts of broken whispered promises, but soothes the hangover that has been banging a hole in the back of his head all morning, well, all thirty minutes of the morning.

Stumbling over a broom stick that Albus vaguely recognises as his own, Albus searches the shelves for a headache potion. His hand gets spiked by a cactus that Lily brought him as a graduation present. A sort of joke, because Albus hadn't wanted anything: "_So I brought you a pet cactus_," she'd said with a smile, holding out the deadly plant with the pink flower sitting on a stem. His cactus has been sat on a grand total of forty-three times, and is miraculously still standing – although last time Albus fell back onto the plant he had wanted to cut it into very small pieces and burn them.

Glaring at the offending plant, Albus takes a sip of the potion which clears his head immediately, bringing the half-hazed out memories of last night to the forefront of his mind.

He remembers drunken kissing, the taste of alcohol, Firewisky and something else, pressed to his lips and before that, his manager saying something. And there's Scorpius speaking words that Albus doesn't want to hear, those terrifyingly clear grey eyes focused on a place over Albus's head, a thousand years away. Albus doesn't stick around, and later, when the afterglow is beginning to set it, Scorpius finds Albus in the orchard garden, beside an apple tree as fireworks go off in the sky.

"Once," says Albus, his throat sticky and dry and it sounds as though he has been crying.

"Always," says Scorpius, so wearily that Albus can't help his next words.

"Kiss me," says Albus and Scorpius does, very slowly as though scared of breaking Albus into a million pieces, although Albus thinks that really, Scorpius is more focused on holding himself together. "It's your last chance," says Albus seriously once they break away and Scorpius slumps to the floor, a tired look invading his face. "Don't come crawling back to me again…"

"Kiss me," says Scorpius and Albus complies as the fireworks streak red and gold above their heads.

_It's your last chance_, the words echo around Albus like a death sentence. A bold part of him must have thought he could do it, and a bold part of Scorpius must have thought he could too. But neither of them can, Scorpius is gone and Albus is alone, as he so often is when it comes down to it.

His heart beat recovers itself, reverting to a steadier pace, and Albus commits the smell of coffee and sandalwood to memory before opening his window as wide as it goes and leaving his bedroom door open, exits his room, leaving Scorpius behind him.

All the way through the hall, Albus focuses on holding it together: _just until I get a cup of coffee_, he promises himself. Something's wrong, Albus frowns as the hall opens before him, the door to the main room wide open, inviting Albus inside. The enticing smell of caffeine infused with cocoa is drifting from the room, Albus wonders which worried family member is here to visit and fuss and reprimand him.

Albus sighs, drawing his robe tighter around him and hoping desperately that it's James waiting in there with a mug of coffee and a grin, before stepping into the room.

The first thing he notices is that the windows are all open and the curtains are drawn back, flooding his flat with light. Everything is filled with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood and coffee swells around Albus, a feeling like a phoenix rises inside of him. It's a dream, as he lifts his gaze to Scorpius, sitting by the breakfast table, coffee maker on beside him as he pours it – black – into his _Wizard of Oz_ mug.

"Hey," says Albus, breathless and Scorpius looks up, a barely frozen smile seeping over his face like a tidal wave.

"Hey," he says and the world is realised in that one word. "Coffee?"

.

_Fin_

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_The last time Albus wakes up alone._


End file.
